June 1989
by kimr1989
Summary: Summary: Faith is on the operating table having the bullet from Cruz's gun removed and thinking about her life and how she ended up there.


Now before any of you say it, I know the math doesn't exactly work out, but tough. This one isn't just about Faith even though it seems like it. If Emily hadn't contracted RAS (rapid aging syndrome) it would have worked. anyway...  
  
Summary: Faith is on the operating table having the bullet from Cruz's gun removed and thinking about her life and how she ended up there.  
  
Rated: PG-13 for vague sexual references and a little language  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Heck even the bank owns my computer still! I just like to play around with these characters from time to time.  
  
"Two roads diverge in the woods and I - I took the road less traveled on and that has made all the difference." - Robert Frost  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
June 1989  
  
How did I get here? Where did the road turn for me? When should I have turned left when I turned right? I think it was June, 1989. Yeah, that has to be it.  
  
It was the hottest June on record. I had just got my first apartment away from home. I was starting college in August. My little window air conditioner barely worked, but we didn't care, we weren't wearing any clothes anyway.  
  
"Faith, can I? I can't hold out much longer, Faith. Please, tell me what to do?" I tried to remember. Was my period last week or the week before? It had to be last week. "Yes, Fred, oh yes!" I cried out seconds before Fred collapsed on me. When he rolled over I look at the calendar, praying I didn't make a mistake. I'm sure I'm fine. We'd done this lots of times and I never got pregnant before.  
  
Famous last thoughts to paraphrase. By the fourth of July, I knew without a doubt that I had indeed made a mistake - a big one. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, so I started to school like nothing had happened. It took Fred three months to figure out what I had known nearly immediately. I was pregnant.  
  
As soon as he figured it out, he said we had to get married. We "have" to. Not I love you will you please do me the honor of being my bride; you "have" to marry me. I "have" to marry you. Oh, yeah, sure I love you and all - that goes without saying. My man, what a romantic.  
  
I made it through my first semester of college. I enrolled for the second semester against Fred's and my family's wishes. I couldn't just give up all my dreams for one hot, sticky day in June. Emily arrived on Tuesday during spring break much to my instructors' relief. Every time I shifted in the too-small-for-my-protruding-belly seat, every instructor I had would snap around and hold his breath until I smiled and waved at him. All except my biology professor, he used me as a visual aid. How embarrassing you might think. I guess I wasn't embarrassed, but it was weird nonetheless. Those professors that were nervous about a pregnant woman in class were annoyed by a baby in class - again except the biology professor, who will probably request a pregnant woman ready to give birth in his class every semester from now on.  
  
I finished out my first year, but there wasn't money for another semester. Fred bounced from job to job. I worked two jobs and took care of Emily the best I could. Those early days are a blur to me now. Get up, change diapers, clean up puke, maybe if I'm lucky I get to shower, go to work, come home, make dinner, change more diapers, go to my second job. A never ending cycle of monotony consumed me. Maybe I blocked it out, you know, like those people who see the horrors of war and their mind blocks out the things they can't cope with. Maybe that's why I can't remember Emily growing up or Charlie even being born. I finally, after he was about 4 or so, stopped having to look at the calendar to check to make sure his birthday wasn't coming up. I sound like a horrible mother, I know, not knowing when her own child's birthday is, but you try living what I did and see if you could do any better. I dare ya.  
  
Then all the sudden, I came out of my fog. I saw an ad in the paper about the police academy. The starting salary would be more than Fred and I made combined right now. I didn't tell him until I had already enrolled. I knew this would be my chance to break out of the cycle of nothing that had become my existence.  
  
Sitting across the breakfast table from Fred, I finally took a good look at him. Over weight, balding, reading the paper while shoveling cereal into his mouth. I finished feeding Charlie his cereal and I just blurted it out. By the look on his face I could tell he knew this wasn't just about a career change. We both knew we were going no where fast. I saw the panic register on his face before he exploded in anger. I picked up Charlie with one arm and Emily with the other and took off for their room, slamming the door in Fred's face. I wasn't really afraid, I just didn't want the kids to see us fight.  
  
I heard the front door slam and cautiously opened the bedroom door. He was gone, but he would be back. He always came back. I don't know if that thought made me happy or sad.  
  
I started at the academy a week later where I met Bosco. I helped him with his homework; he helped me learn to shoot a gun. He stood between me and the guys who wanted to make me quit and I stood between him and disaster.  
  
Fred and I got closer and further apart during the years since. Bosco and I only got closer, until "she" came along. You know who I'm talking about. I can't even think about her. How can one person be so evil? Anyway, "she" isn't the real reason I'm here. Yeah, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her, but she's not the reason I'm lying here, even if she did shoot me.  
  
I'm here because one hot day in June, 1989, I said yes when I should have said no. I turned left when I should have turned right. Now that I think about it, was it a wrong turn? Who's to say this wasn't the best outcome for me?  
  
I love my kids even though I think they're trying to kill me in their own special way. I don't think I ever loved Fred as much as I was supposed to, but I can't really regret the decisions being married to him caused me to make. Bosco - well, there are a lot of decisions I've made for and about Bosco that I could have made differently. If I hadn't said yes, I would never have met Bosco. I never in a million years would have thought I would become a cop when I was 18. It's hard to believe now.  
  
I wanted to be a cop because I knew I would be able to support the kids and me when I left Fred. Not "if" I left Fred, but "when." Every time I left, I always came back. I don't know if that thought made me happy or sad either. Fred is a habit, a free babysitter, the one person standing between me and loneliness. We "had" to get married and we "had" to stay together for the same reason. I don't think Fred loves me any more than I loved him, but at least he tried. I gotta give him that. So I guess Fred is a habit, but not a bad habit. Lately, I've felt like I'm slipping into that cycle of nothing again.  
  
When did I become "Bosco's Partner," "Emily and Charlie's Mom," and "Fred's Wife" and stop being me? I felt like me today, I think. I wasn't nothing today. Emily and Charlie are going to be worried. It's about time for them to know how it feels. If it weren't for Clairol they'd see what worrying about them had done for me. Fred's gonna be pissed. What else is new?  
  
Bosco is in a panic. I heard him screaming at me to open my eyes. I feel guilty for making him feel bad. What's up with that? It's ok for my family to feel bad, but not my ex-partner. Fred's right, I do put Bosco ahead of them. I feel closer to Bosco than I ever did to Fred. Not lately, mind you, but I always knew that no matter what I said or did, eventually, Bosco would back me up. We said some pretty hurtful things to each other. When I wake up, we'll talk it out. I know he'll feel so guilty that he'll listen. I've got to tell him how sorry I am for suggesting we split up and find new partners. Then when I wouldn't talk to him when he came by, it was like I deserted him. I know he only said the things he did out of hurt. Maybe he did mean some of them, but they're probably true. Up until he met "her," Bosco was never one to lie about things. "This is how I feel and if you don't like it - sucks to be you" has always been Bosco's motto.  
  
I'm not the worst mother in the world, I know that. Bosco knows that contrary to what he said. I'm definitely not the best one either. I try. If that's not good enough for them, well, that's too bad. I'm me or at least I want to be me.  
  
I think my family gets scared when I'm me. After the bank robbery and Emily saw me be me, she was never the same. I know all the trouble she's been having is because she couldn't reconcile who she wanted me to be and the person she saw that day. It couldn't be helped. I had to save her.  
  
She's a lot like me. I think that's why I'm so freaked out about her having sex. The good Lord knows I was having sex at her age and look where I ended up - on an operating table with doctors removing a bullet from me while my kids, husband, and best friend wait for me outside the door.  
  
I can almost feel them thinking about me. I can hear what's going through Bosco's head. That's wrong isn't it? I should be able to hear my husband's or my children's thoughts, but I'm closer to Bosco. He knows me better than they do. I hope I'll still know him when this is over.  
  
These last few weeks since he's been working ACU, he's harder and colder than I've ever seen him. Even when he went after that guy, Steve, that beat up his mother, he wasn't this cold. He's a lot softer than any one would guess. I hope he wakes up before it's too late. Is it already too late? Probably not, I'll help him. I always help him.  
  
I can hear him ripping himself to shreds inside. Blaming himself, vowing revenge. He's pacing around trying to pick a fight with someone so he can be angry instead of hurt. He's probably already tried to pick a fight with Fred who most likely quoted some passage out of the Bible to him about forgiveness. Fred's saving all his aggravation for me, I'm sure.  
  
I could have died, I still might. It's amazing how calm about that I feel. I see now what Fred was saying about being close to death. Unfortunately - fortunately? - my "near-death" experience isn't going to make me more passive and gather my family closer. No way am I going to go back to living from day to day without knowing who I am or why I'm here. Life's too short. I'm going to start living it. I've always known I wanted more, now I'm going to have more.  
  
I love my kids, but they deserve better than half a mother. That's what I am, half. Half alive, a half a mom, a half a cop, a half a wife, a half a person. That's a lot of halves and I want to be a whole something. I don't know what, but I know I'm not going to find it back at home with Fred. I don't know how yet, but it's long past time to try. 


End file.
